Sharon to the Third Degree
by historicallylate
Summary: Provenza has a bad day. He's no Viète, but he knows the three real roots too. Sharon/Andy, Provenza and the kitchen sink. One-shot.


**A/N:** _This was just for comic relief (mine, obv) and because grumpy Provenza is fun. Also something I keep hoping the show would make use of! Because grumpy Provenza is fun (and because Sharon/Provenza is the most interesting relationship on the show)._

_Again, writing warm-up, treat as first draft material. Sorry for Brit spelling. Not mine, except for weird-ass suppositions. _  
_No spoilers, unless you haven't seen The Closer and Major Crimes._

_Sharon/Andy flavour, post-s2 and most likely very far from future canon._

* * *

The day had opened early with a strange call. There was a sensitive situation with a certain woman Provenza was called in to sort out and he did as was told, before contacting his Captain, letting her know anything. This resulted in him being late and in a bad mood to face the next problem on his list.

Actually, the day hadn't started with that strange call.

That idiot Flynn had called him even earlier with a problem. Well, it wasn't as much a problem as it was a clossal mistake. Taking that woman anywhere was not the act of a sane man. And why on Earth did he insist on calling her by her first name all the time when he had explicitly told the idiot a million times to cut it out? More importantly, why on Earth didn't he tell his best friend these things beforehand?

The man was an idiot, that was why.

Sometimes he thought what it said about him that his best friend was that big of an idiot. Usually he was stupid enough to voice his wonderment in the presence of said idiot who countered with "you are the idiot who married the same annoying woman twice". He had to concede that on that point the idiot had some rare insight into women.

Strangely enough, his mood was worsened still with a third phone call that was both strange and about women. His damned ex-wife, not Liz who was very agreeable company these days, and not the one he married twice in some convoluted misconception that women could change, wanted him to come and explain to his son that joining a police force as an adult was both idiotic and completely unnecessary. Like he would listen to him. But he would try just to be left alone.

First things first, he had a report to give on his early morning findings. He walked straight through the Murder Room and into his Captain's office with a barely-there effort at knocking before entering through the open door.

"It's Sharon Beck alright. Stoned out of her mind but it's her."

"You sure? I mean, absolutely sure?"

He dropped the photograph and the report in front of her.

"To the tune of fingerprints and everything."

"Oh."

Sharon didn't know what to think. Was it too rude to be happy? Possibly.

"She's going down for this, if not for anything else. They've got enough evidence for a solid conviction."

She just stared at the face of a woman who had abandoned Rusty. Her Rusty, who was an amazing kid and who subsequently had suffered through so many unpleasant things and now this. He was just settling into his life without his mother. And now she got to be the bitch who took away his mother, again.

Self-pity definitely was too rude at a moment like this.

"Look Sharon, it's going to be fine. I'm sure Rusty knew it was going to come down to this sooner or later. He's got a good home, a good life going."

"Yes, thank you." It was all true, but Rusty, like teenagers often, was mercurial. "I'm just not entirely sure how to go on from this."

Provenza looked her for a moment. There was an easy answer which wouldn't make her feel any better.

"You are going to solve a murder, I'm going to pick Rusty up from school. I'll tell him and make sure he's ok, you get home early and make him dinner and talk with him if he wants to."

Sharon watched his face with big eyes. How did he got that smart and collected?

He just shrugged.

"Hey, that's all you can do."

He left her to her thoughts and went to his desk to sort out yesterday's statements. They had a tangled case with money, guns and murder as well as one very desperate ex-housewife of the victim's who incidentally couldn't keep her hands to herself. He still shuddered at the thought of getting that particular statement.

He was finishing up with writing his report of that particular incident when the Captain entered, asked for status and told the team about her suspicions that the said ex-wife had indeed done the man in. Provenza silently voted for it having been a mercy killing.

"I hate to put this on you, but Lieutenant Provenza, would you go and suggest to Ms. Richards to come and see us, thank you," Sharon said with sympathy.

The horror in his eyes spoke volumes even before he could get his mouth working.

"Captain, I don't think —. I think Sanchez is a better fit for this task."

He wasn't averse to a little flirting, but really. That woman was horrible. Entire too hands-on and not in the complimentary sense.

Unfortunately, the others had noticed this too.

"Ah, old man, she's besotted with you. I'm sure if you — suggest — her nicely she would go anywhere for you," Sanchez waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "If you know what I mean."

Sharon rolled her eyes. There was something seriously wrong with everyone today.

"Yes, thank you Detective." Turning back to Provenza, "No, Lieutenant, I need Julio to check on the guns. I'm afraid you just have to take one for the team." He wasn't convinced, so she had to add, "Think of your position."

He thought of his position. She was in it. He resorted to incoherent grumbling about witches and promotions.

"Lieutenant, the quicker you get her, the quicker we can get the murderer and be out and done with this."

"I don't see the point. It's not her. I'm telling you, the woman's got a one-track mind and it's nothing to do with financial gain nor bodily harm." Before Sanchez got his gleeful two cents in, Provenza had already given him the death glare. "And you, zip it."

"Yes sir," he replied with a shrug. No need to say it, if you can get everyone to think it.

"Lieutenant, it is her. I am telling you. It is her."

"Captain, you are coming along nicely, but maybe you haven't learnt that in the actual investigative divisions we need something that we like to call evidence before we can share your firmly stated opinions."

She rolled her eyes in response. "And I am asking you to go and get the strongest evidence we need. The killer. Who will confess."

When he made no move, she added, "I can formulate it as an order for you too. But then we get into that little pesky area we in the professional standards like to call insubordination and conduct reviews".

She stared at him for a second or two before flashing him an amused grin. He nodded to acknowledge his own amusement.

"Well excuse me, Captain. Yes, ma'am, right away ma'am," his response was all plastered in honey. "I'll just remind you of this when it's the time to say I told you so. It is the business manager."

"I think I tend to agree with the Captain, it's her," Tao shot from behind his computer screen.

"Tao, she has no evidence. And don't tell me you ran some hi-ho complex analysis over there during this conversation."

"No, I just checked the LA Times TV listings. She lied."

Everybody chuckled. Sharon threw Provenza a meaningful glance.

This time his answering grumble was titled 'women who think they are always right anyway get all the support' but he didn't get too far as Andy entered the room reading something in a folder.

"Captain, I have the financials from the IRS over here and it looks like —"

Even if they all faced him, he could see there was something going on. Sykes and Sanchez were smirking. Tao had that cat-like grin on his face and his glasses were prodded up on his forehead. Provenza was getting up from his chair and grumbling. And Sharon was — well, Sharon was Sharon. Sharp gaze, arms crossed and a closed folder resting on one elbow. Looked professional, but he could detect she was ignoring something a little too pointedly.

"What?" Was it him?

Sharon almost sighed.

"Nothing, Lieutenant. Would you please be the only professional of this bunch and tell us what you found so Lieutenant Provenza can be on his way."

Provenza sat back down and listened for the very short brief of 'there's not enough money where it should be and there's too much somewhere else' which confirmed one of the Captain's suspicions.

After thanking him for the brief, Sharon turned back to Provenza, "Well, Lieutenant, shouldn't you be getting on before it gets dark? We're not actually in the late-night-calls business, you know."

It was said without malice, in fact, it was delivered with loving, good-humoured smirk. Provenza shot her a glance that told everyone in the vicinity that he did not find her the least bit amusing. Instead, the room on the whole did.

He sighed and threw the slip of paper he had been fiddling with in his desk drawer before getting up.

"What's wrong with you women?"

Sharon's smile faded. "'Us women'?"

"You are all nuts."

Maybe she had gone too far. Maybe she shouldn't joke that much with them, but the sparring matches were fun, especially on days like these. She hadn't meant to insult. Maybe she should apologize right there and then. However, it wasn't like the team hadn't said worse things to her. In fact, who was he to call his boss nuts in front of everyone?

To Andy it was like watching an accident unfold before his eyes. He knew he had to step in to help, but the trouble was that he didn't know which one. Sharon looked so adorably lost. Provenza was grumpier than healthy.

Then again, Sharon flashed signs that told him Provenza was about an inch away from another refresher course on 'Diversity in the Workplace'. Which was even worse than the old sexual harassment seminars used to be. And they had been pretty bad, especially after the third time around.

So, Provenza. Definitely Provenza.

"The whole trifecta of making my life miserable."

The mutter with which Proveza exited reduced his efforts of help into a bad case of muffled laughter. This, in turn, didn't escape Sharon, who turned on her heel faster than an ice skater executed a spin.

"Lieutenant, would you mind explaining?"

Yes, actually, he minded. Not least because he couldn't breathe for all the laughing he was busy doing.

"He means you, his ex-wife and Rusty's mom," he managed to strangle out.

This answer didn't seem to appease her. Nor did it appease his fit of laughs.

"Lieutenant, I fail to see what's the connection."

He had to take a moment to calm himself. While he was trying to accomplish that, he scanned the room for support. Everyone just looked at him amusedly but didn't lift a finger to help. Literally. Thank you, guys. So much for backing up a fellow officer in the hour of need.

Then again, if the roles were reversed, he would have probably run for the hills a long time ago.

"You are all named Sharon. And today he's having trouble with every one of you."

He couldn't help but let a couple notes of laughter surface at her blank face. Slowly her face started showing signs of an internal dance of frowns and grimaces. She could be so adorably lost and the way she tried to get mismatched puzzle pieces to fit wasn't all that much less endearing.

"But didn't he —" Her process still wasn't complete and she needed a couple more clues. "I distinctly remember him going out with his ex-wife again."

"No, that was Liz. She's the good one. Sharon's —"

"Sharon's the horrible one. I see."

With that she strutted, or maybe stalked, to her office and in his mind slammed the door closed entirely too loudly. He let his head fall back, counted to six (that was all he could manage, but sixty percent done wasn't all that bad) and made a silent wish for back-up from whatever might be watching from high up the thing.

His helpful squad mates all happened to remember very important things they just had to do somewhere else at that very second. Sykes was again a bit slow on the uptake and was nearly left behind. Andy's pleading gaze for assistance got her brain working in time and she raced to catch the guys.

Left to his own devices, he walked to her door, knocked, waited a few seconds, took a slow breath and opened it.

She was resting her elbows on either side of a report of some sort, head placed between her hands, a pen still in her fingers. She had slipped her glasses a little down on her nose and met him with expecting eyes over the rims.

Now or never, it was in his hands. He flopped down on a chair before starting.

"Look Sharon, I didn't mean it like that."

He was ready to grovel. Heck, he'd done it plenty enough to know it was almost always the better option. Suck it up and be done with it.

"Mean what? Like what?"

She looked calm. Collected. Almost searching. Briefly he thought she might be faking it, maybe she was just timing her blow-up and this was a put-off.

However, something in her voice combined with the look in her eyes seemed so sincere. He wanted to believe that. Wanted to take a chance on it.

"You really don't know? You're really asking, aren't you?"

He was no fool and couldn't help showing a little hesitancy. The way her eyebrows rose in surprise though told him he'd made the right call.

"Of course I'm asking."

"I thought you were upset."

"Upset at what?" The incredulous way she said that made him surrender to a few stray notes of laughter. He shook his head slowly. Figures. Luckily she gave him a faint smile back. "I'm so glad my slowness is amusing you today."

"No, no. You just surprise me, that's all." His smile was wide as he watched the marvel that was Sharon Raydor. "I thought you took it personally. You know, the —"

"The fact that 'Sharon's the horrible one'?" She slumped back in her chair and gave a couple of chuckles at the ceiling before looking back at him. "No, I was just done with the conversation and all the tasks were handed out." She looked at him for a couple of seconds more during which her grin got positively wicked. "Despite what you all might think, everyone named Sharon are not the same person."

The merriment in her demeanor lasted only a few seconds. Her mind flashed to the wreck that was Sharon Beck down in their holding. Yeah, there's a prime example of a horrible Sharon if there ever was one. Two out of three examples can't be wrong, maybe the conclusion was undeniable in everyone else's mind. The squad had held the opinion. Rusty used to think like that. Maybe he would again.

Andy read correctly the way her smile turned from teasing to sad to reflective before it died and her eyes fell down, dull.

"Hey, he's gotten over that."

"I know." She shook her head and found her heels extremely fascinating. "I know," she repeated on a shaky whisper and made to get up and leave. "Excuse me."

He was saddened how quickly she had lost both her smile and composure. It wasn't his intention.

He jumped up and cut her path to the door a couple of steps down.

"Hey, it's alright."

She wouldn't look at him, but wasn't rounding him either. He slowly opened his hands in an offer which she uncharacteristically accepted. She stepped into his arms and with a bit of hesitancy laid her cheek against his shoulder. He repressed his surprise and gently wrapped his arms behind her back and let her take a moment.

Just as he was getting worried about someone walking in, she seemed to have collected herself enough to form simple conversation, but not enough to step away.

"So what did I do to him today?"

"Nah, it was Provenza being Provenza."

The overemphatically airy way he said it earned a chortle from her. She leaned back in his arms and met his eyes with a glint in hers.

"And this is you lying."

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"So, give it up."

"Well, it wasn't as much what you did to him than it was —" she was sure he blushed at that, "— than it was what you did to me".

She watched him disbelievingly. He never — yes, he did. Never underestimate the best friend bond.

She nodded a silent 'I see', worried her lower lip and lowered her eyes to his tie.

"How embarrassed should I be?" she asked.

"Well, I'd hope you wouldn't be at all." Then he realised what she meant. "Oh, I gave him no details. Just that we went."

Well, thank God for small mercies. That she could live with.

She pushed back and patted his chest in a thank you before starting to make her way back to her desk.

It was funny really, the Flynn and Provenza degree of things.

"And let me guess, it annoys the hell out of you because it was me and details are strictly confidential? Poor Provenza, no guy talk in sight." The vocalized thought made her mood lift even more and she was ready to get on with work.

That was until she realised what she had implied. Oh no, this was almost worse.

"I didn't —"

He cut off her embarrassed backpedalling with a grin and a shake of his head.

"I know what you meant." He gave her wink and started to take his leave. "But just to remind you, confidentiality agreements can expire."

He heard her barely audible whimper from behind and could imagine how her head had fallen into her hands in amused frustration. Yup, situation helped. No war or crisis in sight. And more importantly, no diversity training. It was a good good day.

Even if it was filled with truckloads of papers to go through. He thought he had just sat down and opened the folder when another file was slammed in front of him. Provenza was back.

"Here, take her off my hands and I'll go and break the news to Rusty."

Andy was about say something about her not being in his hands but rather somewhere else on his anatomy, but by the exasperated look on his friend's face he got the impression it would a bridge too far.

"And don't you say a word. I am not done with you. You can't go around gallivanting with — with — her." He gave a meaningful nod in the direction of Sharon's office and at least as meaningful an emphasis on the word 'her'.

"Sharon's not —"

"Eh! Don't you dare finish that or your girlfriend might have a disciplinary report to write at the end of the day." This time the word 'girlfriend' was said with such connotations that even the cattiest teenagers would be suitably impressed.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Damn right 'whatever'," was Provenza's parting remark before storming off to find Rusty.

It was hours later when he finally dragged his feet back to the office. He had vowed to never do anything nice to anyone in his whole life. If he just had never been nice to Rusty, he wouldn't have spent hours talking to him about his lousy mother and dragging him to see her. That one was really great. Almost as great as meeting his idiot son who had thought today was the day to become interested in his line of work. If only he hadn't stopped to help his mother with groceries all those years ago...

The good thing was that his day wouldn't get any worse than this. Damn women and their inability not to mess his life up with their problems.

The Murder Room was quiet and everyone else seemed to have left for the day. The only light was from the Captain's office and he walked straight in.

"Rusty's fine, he's home."

She raised her head to look at him slouching tiredly into one of her chairs. She gave him a half of an grateful smile, the other half an apologetic one.

"Yes, I know, he texted me. Like about a hundred times," she added with an eye roll.

"Well, it was a big day for him."

"Yes, yes it was." She punctuated her sentence with a non-committal hum. "I'm sorry if I went too far out there earlier," she nodded to indicate the now darkened murder room.

"Flynn told me you had a... moment." She nodded slightly and he sighed. This was a Provenza apology and she accepted. "It has just been that kind of a day today." He rubbed his face with his right hand before continuing. "The whole deal with Rusty and his mom would have been enough. But no, my damned ex-wife, to whom I haven't spoken in years, picks this day to want something from me. And then —"

He rolled his wrist in a motion to fish for words to describe his idiot friend's problems but didn't get to finish.

"Yes, I know. He could have kept his mouth shut."

Provenza raised his eyebrow. My, my, the lady protests enough to tell him there is a lot more the idiot neglected to tell him. She quickly changed the subject.

"How was the thing with your ex?"

"She wanted me to convince my son that being in the force was a bad idea."

He gave a tired huff of air. She had to chuckle. The day had been interesting to say the least.

"Well, that shouldn't have been too hard to accomplish today."

"Strangely enough, it wasn't. Which is another against my ex-wife."

He squinted as if mentally checking a scorecard.

"Oh, which reminds me, would you please finish the paperwork on Ms. Richards? She confessed to the murder, amongst other things, and took the plea." She gave him a playful look from under her lashes. "Like I told you she would."

He rose and grumbled something which probably didn't even have words this time. Only the last sentence was said with some sort of confidence.

"And the worst thing is that you always have to be right."

"Well, Lieutenant, I will do my best to be wrong next time. It's bound to happen one of these days."

He was too gentlemanly to bring up Flynn, but not too gentlemanly to think it.

* * *

**A/N2:**_ I'm not all that happy with the Sharon/Andy scene since I'm half a mind convinced she would want to keep it out of office, but I just couldn't get them out in time this time either. Sorry. Hope I didn't ruin it for anyone. ;) (Yes, I do know how that reads. Not intentional, I assure you. Only a little.)_

_Re: synopsis: yes, I am a mathematician with an appalling sense of humour.  
No, this wasn't the S/A/P story I hinted at at the end of "That Damn Wedding"._

_Thanks again for reading & possible comments! Hope you enjoyed._


End file.
